THE MAGIC LABYRINTH by Philip Jose Farmer

If the Rex had been hit, it could not be determined from this distance.

John’s rockets would not have hit so many of his unless they, too, had heat-seekers in their noses. Which meant that the enemy did have some of the devices. Apparently, John had had some manufactured. But how many did he have? Whatever their number, some had been sacrificed to stop the attack.

A second covey darted from the cave. This time, they were met halfway, and a flame-centered cloud spread out to be swiftly dissipated. Almost before that happened, a third flight shot from the Rex. Its arc ended against the cliff. Some had hit the cave itself, though. Flame belched like gas from a dragon’s mouth. Mark off thirty good men and women.

Now the leviathans headed toward each other. Sam could see one light in it, that from the control room. Like his boat, it was blacked-out except for the one illumination needed.

The lookout reported that the enemy launch had resumed motion.

“Neither of his launches originally had torpedo tubes,” Sam said to Byron. “But John may have fitted them with tubes. I’m betting he has. Where is his other launch, by the way?”

A moment later, the lookout reported that it was now detected. It must have just emerged from the stern launching compartment.

The Post No Bills was cutting toward the Rex. It had two torpedoes set to go and four waiting.

The Gascon was racing toward the motherboat, under orders to get into her compartment and take on torpedoes. Sam doubted that it could be gotten aboard soon enough.

“There goes the smaller enemy launch, sir,” the lookout said. “Headed toward the Bills.”

Sam told Byron to order the Gascon to assist its sister boat.

Four rockets sprang from the Rex. An explosion announced the end of one curve. A moment later, Admiral Anderson spoke over the radio. “That bird knocked us silly, sir. But we’re on our way again. No damage to the boat—that I know about.”

The Gascon, firing rockets at the enemy launch, swung about it. Little spurts of flame showed that their machine guns were operating. The other enemy launch continued doggedly toward the Bills, shedding warheads and bullets alike. The distance between the two larger vessels, as estimated by the eye, was five hundred feet. Neither was loosing its rockets. Evidently they were waiting until they got within close range.

The Gascon was circling behind the enemy now. Plunkett’s voice came. “I’m going to ram.”

“Don’t be a fool!” Sam shouted, in his fear bypassing Byron, who should have relayed the message.

“Is that an order, sir?” Plunkett said calmly. “The crew has left—at my orders, sir. I think that I can wreck the enemy’s propellers.”

“This is the captain!” Sam said. “I order you not to do that! I don’t want you to kill yourself!”

There was no answer. The smaller of the two white objects crept upon the stern of the bigger. At least, it seemed to be moving slowly. Actually it was overtaking the slower craft at about fifteen miles an hour. Not much speed, but the weight of the heavy armor-plated boat gave it a fearful amount of energy.

“Gascon and enemy launch closed, sir,” the lookout said.

“I can see that, hear it, too,” Sam said, looking through his night glasses.

All motion of the Gascon had stopped completely except for its drift with the current. The other launch was slowing down. Now it had stopped.

“By Jesus!” Sam said. “He did it! Poor bastard!”

“Maybe he ain’t hurt,” Joe said. “He voud’ve been thtrapped in.”

The Post No Bills was closing in. It came within perhaps a hundred feet of its target. Then it swung sharply away. Several seconds later, the enemy boat rose in water and flames and came down in pieces.

“He torpedoed it!” Sam yelled with exultation. “Good old Anderson! He torpedoed it!”

Byron said coolly, “Good show, that.”

“NFH! Anderson! What are my orders?”

“Find out if Plunkett’s all right,” Sam said. “And if the Gascon is still serviceable. And pick up the men who jumped.”

“Sir, the Rex is an estimated fifty-two hundred feet away,” the lookout said.